BANG.

BANG, BANG

Ziva David shot up out of bed, gun in hand, eyes darting around the room trying to locate the threat.

Bang, the metal door of her cell slammed open and she was thrown against the wall fists hitting her from all angles .

She stayed motionless as her heart pounded and breathing quickened. It takes her a minute to realise no one is there. Ziva forces herself to ground, stretching out her fingers focusing on the feel of each of them, one at a time. The cool soft feel of her sheet reminding her of where she was. Taking a shaking breath in and blinking a few times she rises from her bed and shuts the offending window that caused the door to slam.

She had found out early on that having a window open when she was sleeping helped to remind her where she was, or more accurately where she wasn't, when she inevitably awoke in the night. Her heart rate was still raised and she jumped at every creak of the floor. The alarm clock read 01:45, realising going back to sleep was going to be a hopeless endeavour she put on her running clothes and grabbed her keys, hoping a run in the crisp winter air would help to clear her mind.

When Ziva runs she never has a set route, routine and predictability get you killed. This morning was no different. She had in her mind she wanted to do at least 10k and decided to head towards Fort Circle Park, a bit of peace away from the bustling city life would do her good. It's just after 02:20 when she gets to the entrance to the park having run quicker than she realised and only now noticing how winded she was. "I've got to work on my pacing more," she mutters to herself before continuing on. The path she takes is small and dimly lit, as she weaves her way around the trees her mind slows. All she thinks of is the pounding of her feet onto the floor and keeping steady breaths. She is calm, relaxed.

That was her mistake.

One of the first things you learn in Mossad is to never let your guard down, to keep you head on a swivel constantly looking for threats. But Ziva was tired. Tired of the fear that was controlling her life. Tired of being held captive by her memories. So, for the briefest moment, she let it all go and it felt amazing. She was free. Because of this, she failed to register the three men rounding the corner until they were in striking distance.

The two smaller men reached to grab her arms. She twists out the grip of the first landing a blow to the seconds face. He staggers back, she goes to strike the first when a blow to the back of her head knocks her on the floor. The larger male, the one who had hit her, was now on top of her his weight pinning her down.

It is only now she realises that she had no knife on her, in her daze as she left her apartment she had left all her weapons in her work trousers. The one time she breaks rule nine is the time she needs it most. The other two, having regained composure, were on each of her arms. No matter how much she twisted or struggled she was stuck. Panic like Ziva had not felt in a long time gripped her and she was frozen. The face of the man on top of her kept changing to Saleem and Ziva struggled to keep control of her mind. Someone, she was unsure of who had ripped her top off and as she struggled another held a knife against her neck instructing her to stop moving.

She did as instructed and accepting her fate tried to dissociate from what was happening to her. She was trapped in the mirrored closet; her legs no longer had the strength to work. She was dehydrated, starved, alone. Ziva began to shiver, she was cold. 'I'm cold' she thought, 'I'm cold because I'm not in the desert'. She snapped into focus. These men are nothing more than drunken fools. She was in control again. Remaining still she formed her plan and as the man moved further down her she placed a well-aimed kick to his face. Swinging her now free legs around she wrestled the man holding her left arm and kicked him away. Only one remained now and seeing both his companions out cold on the floor and the wild look in her eyes he kept his distance.

The adrenaline Ziva had been using was fading, her vision was spotty. She knew she should deal with the last guy but she had nothing left in her tank. The fear she had felt earlier was returning. Part of her wanted to stay, to hurt them more and call the authorities on them. But with no cell phone and nothing to restrain them with she knew she couldn't last long against the three of them in this state. So, she turned and fled.

As she reached the exit of the park the pain set in. Her right shoulder throbbed and her hand came away from it sticky with blood, she'd been slashed by the knife. Realising the state she was in, half naked and covered in blood with no cell phone or money she froze. Unsure of what to do. Weighing up her options she realised she only had one, Tony didn't live far from the park. As much as she did not want to do so she had no choice, she would have to ask for his help.